


Love In Madness

by AnotherWriterWhoWrites, KassandraScarlett



Series: RP-ed Fics [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adopted Sam Winchester, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bobby Singer is Dean Winchester's Parent, Demonic Possession, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sam Winchester's Visions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWriterWhoWrites/pseuds/AnotherWriterWhoWrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassandraScarlett/pseuds/KassandraScarlett
Summary: When Dean Singer and Sam Wesson meet in a mental hospital with each one dealing with their own respective issues, the former being previously possessed by a demon and the latter crippling visions, they quickly bond and run away; looking for answers and revenge that'll open all sorts of new possibilities, and danger, for them both.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: RP-ed Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105076
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

Sam rubbed at his eyes as he listened with half an ear, trying not to make eye contact with anyone else sitting in the group. He wrapped his arms around himself, dreading his turn, tuning everything out as the counselor spoke with one of the other members. 

“Demons,” he could hear one of the boys whisper. “Demons are real.”

He could barely hold back a snort at that- demons. It sounded more like the boy had been speaking with his own parents about this, they were the ones that had believed that Sam had been possessed.

“Dean, we’ve been over this,” the counselor said in what she possibly assumed was a gentle voice. “No, they’re not real, you’re safe here.”

Safe, as if that was possible. As if that meant anything when Sam got visions of doctors purposely messing with medications or leaning just a bit too heavily on surgeries that were supposed to ‘help’ them. 

They were no safer here than they would be outside. 

“No, listen to me,” the boy- Dean- said urgently, desperately. “Anyone- demons can be anyone. They can take over anyone. Anyone here can be a demon.”

“No one here is a demon,” the counselor told him. She gave a pointed look at the rest of the group and they muttered their confirmations. “We’re all humans here, we’re all safe here,” she repeated the last part one more time as if to really sell it. At that point, Sam couldn’t hold back a snort, staring at Dean who seemed to be on edge, ready to jump out of his chair and run.

“Sam?” The counselor called, turning to him. He couldn’t help but flinch, wrapping his arms around himself tighter. “Would you like to say anything to the group?”

“No.”

The counselor shook her head. “Sam, I’m sure everyone here is really interested in hearing your story as well,” she said, ignoring how some of them shifted in their seats and looked away. Dean was one of the few that actually made a sound, scoffing at him. 

Sam’s eyes flickered towards him, then his vision clouded over as a sharp pain filled his head and a small drop of blood fell from his nose. “He’s coming back for you,” he said in a low voice, coming from somewhere within himself.

Dean stiffened, staring at Sam with wide, fear-filled eyes, every part of him screaming almost loud enough for Sam to hear just how scared he was with those words. Dimly, he could hear the counselor saying something, probably lecturing him about talking to other people politely, but he didn’t look away from Dean, visions of black smoke filling his mind.

He aimlessly wiped at his nose, smudging the blood that was steadily dripping from it. He watched it stain his hand and used his thumb to rub it in. “Can I go to my room?” He asked tiredly.

The counselor stared at him with pursed lips. “You know the drill, go to the nurses station to get your medications,” she said, writing something on a prescription pad and handing it to him. “We’ll talk about this in our individual counseling Sam.”

Getting up, Sam took the paper from her, carefully not making any more eye contact with Dean as he passed him. He stopped at the nurses station to get his medications, swallowing them and opening his mouth to show that it was empty before he finally reached his room, collapsing into the bed and curling into the sheets and pillow.

He swallowed the chalky aftertaste lingering from the pills and tried to focus on how tired they made him feel, in the hopes that he could just go to sleep. He could feel the blood practically coursing from his nose, staining the sheets and everything around him, as he tried to ground himself, tried to stay in the present as things he couldn’t understand flashed before his closed eyes. 

“Sam,” someone hissed his name. “Hey, Sammy!”

Oddly enough, it was that nickname, one that no one really used with him, that managed to snap him out of his daze. “It’s Sam,” he mumbled, bringing his head up enough for his vision to clear to see who was there. It was Dean. “What?”

Dean blinked at him, taking a half step back with a slightly put-off look on his face. “Your nose is bleeding a river,” he told him.

“It does that,” Sam said tiredly, laying back down on the bed but not closing his eyes just yet. “I’ll tell them to change the sheets later.”

“Dude, you’re kinda nuts.”

He didn’t even have the energy to roll his eyes. “You’re my neighbor in the mental asylum group, you’re not one to talk.”

He watched a dark look appear in Dean's eyes. “I’m not crazy, and you can’t make me think I am,” he snapped at him, eyes narrowing at him. “Are you?”

“If you’re not crazy, then you’re not crazy,” he said simply, finally closing his eyes. He felt a growing pounding headache in the back of his head. “This place isn’t going to help either of us.”

Dean didn’t speak for a few moments. “Who’s coming back for me?” He finally asked, voice trembling slightly. 

“The black smoke,” Sam told him. “It's coming for you the day after your parents come to visit you.”

When Dean didn’t say anything, Sam opened one eye to look at him, sitting up slowly and opening the other. The other boy looked like he was seconds away from a full blown panic attack, whispering, “No, no, no,” over and over again, retching soundlessly. 

Sam blinked. “What’s the black smoke?” He asked him. 

When Dean spoke, it was in a choked off, throat tightening, terror filled voice. “Demon,” he barely got out. 

“Demon?” Sam repeated thoughtfully, thinking back to the black smoke he had seen bits and pieces of. “Demons are real.” He gave a small laugh. “My parents tried to do an exorcism on me before I came here,” he reminisced. “They thought I was possessed by a demon.”

Dean looked stricken and he stared at Sam in horror. “Are you a demon?” He demanded, a touch hysterically.

Sam just raised an eyebrow at him. “Do I look like a demon?” He asked, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. “You want me to recite the Lord's Prayer or something?”

Dean didn’t answer, but at the same time didn’t look entirely convinced. 

“Besides,” Sam said, laying back down on the bed. “What do demons even look like?”

“You already said it, black smoke.”

Sam scoffed at that. “That’s it?” He asked, a bit disappointed. “The Bible always wrote them with horns and claws and everything but black smoke?” He shook his head. “What a waste.”

He could almost feel Dean's eyes on him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He asked. “Sorry if they don’t seem demonic enough for you, Princess.”

Sam resisted the urge to throw one of his blood stained pillows at him. Barely. “So says the guy in the mental asylum,” he said. “You seem normal, why are you here?”

Dean gave a bitter laugh. “I am one good scare away from snapping and OD-ing myself, I’m nowhere near normal.”

Sam stared at him for a moment before flicking his fingers at him. “Boo,” he said. “What happened that made you so scared of life?”

Dean shot him a dirty look. “You’re the psycho telling me that it’s coming back for me, shouldn’t you already know?

“It possessed you?” Sam guessed watching Dean flinch. “Huh. What was that like?”

Dean shook his head, just curling tighter into himself.

“Alright, don’t answer,” Sam said with a sigh, moving his head side to side. “They don’t always come true, the things I see, so maybe this one won’t either.” He closed his eyes again.

For a moment, Sam thought Dean had left, it was too quiet, before he finally asked in a quiet voice, “Can I stay here?”

Sam opened his eyes to look at him, the boy wasn’t looking towards him, looking away, he was hunched in on himself; vulnerable. “If we get into trouble, I’ll blame you,” he said with no real heat. “Want to wait until I get some new sheets?”

Dean answered by climbing into the bed with him, on the other side of the bed. “I’m probably not gonna sleep but I’ll try not to move too much.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep at all,” Sam told him, laying back down. “Want to talk?”

“I don’t want to talk, you talk.”

“You’re intruding on my space, you talk,” Sam pointed out, poking Dean in the side. “Got any siblings?”

He heard Dean sigh softly. “No, none. Always wanted one though.”

“It’s not all that cut out to be,” Sam told him. “I got… I don’t know if they’re really considered my siblings but my parents do this thing through the church, kinda like fostering? So they live with us for a time before they’re sent off.”

“What’s that like?”

“It sucks,” Sam said honestly. “I don’t really have time to connect with any of them cause they get sent away. And because I’m the oldest, my parents always wanted me to take care of them but most of them don't listen and I get in trouble. The few times I did manage to get close to one of them, they’d be sent off somewhere and I’d never hear from them again.”

“Yeah, that does sound sucky,” Dean agreed with him, twisting and turning in the bed until he was pressed up against Sam's back, there was really nowhere else to go.

“If you get hard on me, I’ll kick you out,” Sam warned him; he wasn’t sure if he meant it though. It was nice to be pressed up against someone else like this. “It did suck and getting up at the ass crack of dawn to go to church every day was bad too.”

“Really big on the religion thing, were they?”

“You have no idea,” Sam said, a touch bitterly. “They don’t want me to be here, kept thinking that I was possessed by a demon or something. Had the whole church get together to perform an exorcism on me.”

Dean snorted at that. “And how’d that go?”

“The priest kept dunking me in a giant thing of holy water for hours, thinking I was gonna die from pneumonia before any demons came out,” he told him. “And as you can see, it didn’t work. But I did pass out because he held me under the water for too long.”

“Dick,” Dean offered, shaking his head. 

“Mm hmm,” Sam agreed. “But passing out made them think that it worked so after that I could go home and go to sleep so that I can go to school the next day.”

“So you just pretended that it worked?”

“I didn’t do anything, I passed out in the water and they declared it a success,” Sam said with a snort. “I wasn’t going to argue, I just wanted to sleep.”

He felt Dean move up enough to look at his face before laying back down. “Are you sleeping now?”

“No.” 

He heard Dean give a small sigh and then he moved the both of them, sliding over Sam and lightly moving him so that they could lay on their sides face to face. “Why?”

Sam sighed, rubbing at his eyes. The blood had already dried on his skin. “Because I get visions,” he said simply. “Visions of the future, it's how I know that the black smoke is coming back to you.”

“You’re… You’re serious about that?” Dean asked skeptically. “You get actual visions?”

“Why would I make something like that up?” Sam asked him. He let out a deep breath. “I get visions all the time, they cause me to have these nosebleeds like crazy.” He waved over the sheets and himself. “And they’re always bad news; someone dying, someone getting hurt, never anything good.”

When Dean spoke, his voice was hollow. “And you saw that the demon, the black smoke, was coming back to get me?”

“I see that it keeps jumping from person to person, I see that it keeps saying your name- Dean Singer- trying to figure out where you are,” Sam said. “I see that it's very persistent in trying to find you.”

A choked whimper escaped from Dean's lips and he curled in on himself. “That’s the demon,” he whispered. “It's coming… It's coming for me. No, no, nononono.”

Sam turned around so that he could face Dean completely. “Dean?” He called out to him. “It’s not here.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sam looked around the room. “I don’t see any black smoke here right now, so that means that right now, you’re safe.”

Dean stared up at him pleadingly, gripping his own arms tightly. “Can you just… Keep talking?”

Sam nodded, trying to think of something else to say. “My parents don’t like that I’m in here.”

“Why’d they send you then?” Dean asked, sounding as if it took a great deal of effort.

“They didn’t,” Sam said simply. “My school did cause I had a vision bad enough that it gave me a seizure. When my parents refused to take me to the hospital, they got CPS involved and as a compromise, I’m here.”

He felt Dean swallow hard. “My parents sent me here,” he confessed quietly. “They thought I was going to hurt someone, I kept seeing everyone around me as demons.”

“They’re coming to visit on Family Day,” Sam pointed out. “I saw that too. Mine already said they won’t come to any visits.”

“Wish mine wouldn’t,” Dean said bitterly. “Mom just keeps crying, dad looks like he’s about to cry, and in the end they both tell me that I’m in here for my good.”

“I’m guessing they’re trying their best, no one would know how to deal with my visions and I’m guessing no one would know how to deal with being possessed by a demon,” Sam pointed out. “But they’re trying. Somewhat.”

Dean stared at him, eyes widening. “Let’s run away, he suddenly said. 

Sam blinked. “What?”

“Let’s run away,” Dean repeated. He reached out and touched Sam's arm. “We could get out of here.”

“And… Go where?” Sam asked, genuinely curious. “ We don’t have money or supplies or even clothes. The hospital took everything.”

“I don’t know,” Dean said frantically. “But it’ll be better than here. I can’t stay here, not if the demon is trying to come and get me.”

Sam looked around the room that they were in, not moving. “Can I think about it first for a bit?” He asked. 

Dean let out a small groan. “Do you always need to think about things? Can’t you just do them?”

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "You're the one that wants to run away with someone that just told you they see the future," he pointed out. “I would think that you’d want to think about it a bit more.”

“Yeah, well, think how handy your visions could be if you learned to use it.”

“To do what, cheat the cards at Vegas?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes. “Try to think this through.”

“I’m trying to survive here,” Dean half hissed at him. “There’s a demon coming for me, what if it finds out about your powers?”

“Why would a demon care about my visions?” Sam asked. “Doesn’t it have things, powers, of its own?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t stay here,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Whether you’re coming with me or not, I’m getting out of here.”

Sam stared at him. “Just let me think about it, I’ll let you know tonight.”

Dean chewed on his lower lip but nodded, settling back down on the bed. Sam followed him, trying to relax as he breathed out slowly. 

His eyes suddenly clouded over as another vision filled his head, blood slowly dripping from his nose.

He could dimly hear Dean calling to him. “Sam?”

Everything dulled around him as the vision played in his head, in front of his eyes. His body shook as he tried to ride it out- there was no other way to deal with it.

He couldn’t even feel Dean gripping at him, shaking him slightly. “Sammy?”

After what felt like forever, the vision stopped and Sam slumped, half into the bed and half into Dean. He brought his hand up and wiped at the blood under his nose.

"Was that a vision?" Dean asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, they come a lot more frequently now," Sam said tiredly. "Can… Can I just try to go to sleep please?"

"But... What did you see?"

Sam glanced up at him sorrowfully. "Just… Cover your ears," he mumbled, pressing his head against Dean's chest. Moments later, there was a blood curdling scream filling the air and the unmistakable sound of someone being stabbed.

He could feel Dean flinch at the sound but he also curled tighter around Sam, hand curling around the back of his head and cradling him almost. Sam gripped back, shaking and just holding onto him. He closed his eyes and waited for it all to be over. 

After what felt like forever, the noise finally died down, at some point he could hear the scuffle of the guards and doctors and everyone else trying to contain whoever had done it. Sam felt Dean’s hand slowly slide over his back. “What just happened?” He asked softly. 

"One of the patients hadn't been taking their meds," Sam muttered into Dean's chest. "He had a psychotic break and stabbed one of the other patients."

"Are they gonna be okay?"

Sam closed his eyes and curled impossibly closer. "No," He whispered.

He could feel Dean wince. "Okay," he said in a somewhat soothing voice. "Okay, it's okay." But more importantly, he kept petting Sam's back and head and that… That was worth everything to him. Slowly, bit by bit, Sam felt himself start to relax more as Dean continued to pet him. This… This was nice, it wasn't something he's ever really had before.

Before he could even think about fighting it, Sam drifted to sleep, feeling warm and encompassed and most of all, safe.

Sam wasn't sure how long he slept and despite everything, when he woke up, it was the best sleep he'd had in a very long time. "W’time is it?" He mumbled.

He felt Dean give a shrug. "Suicide risk, remember? I'm not allowed metal on myself."

"Oh right," Sam said looking at his bare wrist. "No one came around?"

"Nope," Dean said, running his hand up and down Sam’s back, he barely resisted the urge to press into it. "What's up?"

"Nothing,” Sam mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. "Kinda want to eat."

"Canteen might be open," Dean offered.

"Yeah, maybe," Sam said without moving. "Not that I'm complaining but won't you get in trouble if you stay here?"

Dean hummed. "Meet you there in ten?" 

"Okay," Sam said, slowly and regretfully untangling himself from Dean, making a face at the sheets. "We should get someone to change the sheets too."

"Seriously, dude," Dean stared at the sheets suspiciously as he climbed off. "It can’t be healthy to lose that much blood.”

“Even if it is, I can’t control it, it happens whenever I get visions,” Sam said with a shrug. “I’m used to it by now.”

Dean rolled his eyes. "I thought someone died on that bed, so your version is way better."

Sam fought the urge to throw one of the blood stained pillows at him. Again. "Good thing they're used to blood here."

"Yuck," Dean told him sincerely, before slipping out the door.

Sam watched him leave before shaking his head, getting out of the bed and stretching slightly with a small groan. He sighed as he rubbed the back of his head, and left his room, wanting to find an attendant. 

He didn’t have to look long, Cynthia; the head attendant, was walking towards him with a serious look on her face, flanked with two guards at her sides. “Mr. Wesson,” she told him. “We need to have a serious talk with you right now.”

It felt like forever but in fact, it was only a few hours before he was finally released, stumbling back towards his room, uncaring that he hadn’t eaten yet. He kept one hand on the wall for support as he made his way, feeling like his head was about to explode. 

When he entered his room, Dean was already there sitting on the edge of the bed. He jumped up when Sam entered. “Dude, where the hell have you been?” He demanded, wrapping an arm around Sam's shoulder and waist and helping him collapse into the bed. 

Steps away from the bed, he felt his legs give out and leaned heavily on Dean, almost crying in relief as he finally laid down. "Doctors. Guards," he mumbled, gripping onto his shirt tightly, one hand going to his head. "Can… Can we run away now?"

“Uh, sure?” Dean said, a bit hesitant. He laid down beside Sam once more, lightly stroking his fingers through his hair. "We should probably wait till the night shift. That's when most of the guards are kinda phoning it in."

Sam nodded weakly, still holding onto Dean as they made their way to his room. "Need stuff..." He mumbled. "Money. Clothes."

"They keep our old stuff in the locker rooms. I know a patient who can break in for us."

Sam closed his eyes and curled into a tight ball. "Okay. Wanna... Wanna go somewhere warm," Sam mumbled into the sheets. "Don't wanna be cold anymore."

"It's okay, it's okay," Dean soothed. "We'll go to Cali, okay? Hang out at the beach."

Sam nodded, closing his eyes. "Gonna sleep... For a bit." He shivered even in his sleep, curled tight and gripping the sheets tightly for some sort of anchor. He wasn't sure how long he managed to sleep for but he opened his eyes when he heard Dean coming back into his room. 

Dean grinned at the sight of him, carrying two bags that he placed on the ground next to the bed. 

Sam looked up at him blearily, still tired, still drained, barely able to sit up with the pounding in his head. "Ready?" He mumbled.

Dean held up one of the bags and threw it at him lightly. "Get dressed, Princess."

Sam opened the bag and stared at the clothes inside- his clothes, the ones that the hospital had taken from him and given him scrubs. He quickly undressed and pulled them on, immediately hating them. Almost suit-like pants, a t-shirt that stuck out at the collar and in the end, a sweater vest. He had to get new clothes once they were out. He hated these.

"Yeah, we're going shopping as soon as we can," Dean muttered, obviously seeing the distaste on Sam's face.

Sam nodded and tugged at the clothes, leaving them alone for now seeing as they were all he had. He looked through the rest of the bag, taking out the small Bible that his parents insisted he carry around with him at all times.

Dean glanced at him as he changed his own clothes. "You bringing that?"

Sam used his thumb to open the cover, staring at the hymn that his mom had written into it, a favorite prayer she had about honoring the mother and father. He threw it across the room, uncaring where it landed. "No."

Dean grinned at him. "Let's go then."

Sam nodded and looked through the bag for anything else he wanted to leave behind before he hoisted it up. "I'm ready," he said. “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sam jerked awake and breathed in deeply, looking around. They were still in the car that they had managed to hotwire and Dean was driving them down the highway. “Where are we?” He mumbled.

“Halfway to Cali,” Dean told him. “Was thinking about stopping for the night.” He glanced at Sam. “Unless you wanna drive and let me catch a few winks?”

Sam debated telling him that not only did he not have a license, he also didn’t know how to drive. “Sure,” he said instead.

He could see Dean frown at his late reply. “You… You can drive, right?”

Sam was quiet for a moment before he carefully spoke. “It doesn’t look that hard.”

Dean took a deep breath. “Okay, so… I’ll just have to teach you,” he said, before muttering something under his breath. 

Sam looked at him. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Shaking his head, he leaned over and looked at the dashboard, at the pedals and everything else in sight. “I can figure it out, it doesn’t look that hard,” he said. “I won’t crash or whatever.”

Dean snorted at that. “Says you. What if you have a vision while driving?”

“Well, then, I hope you’re the praying kind, though I have to be honest, I don’t think God's listening,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “And by that logic, I should never drive.”

Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, thinking to himself. "Okay, we're finding a motel," he decided. "And we should probably change cars now anyway."

Sam glanced out the window. "Think the hospital notified your parents yet?"

"I tend to disappear for hours at a time," Dean said casually. "And we've only been gone for the night. So, I'd give it till late evening before they even notice I'm missing. What about you?"

"I tended to stay in my room but I don't think my parents are gonna care," Sam said honestly. "They might agree to a police report ,but only cause of the hospital."

"Alright then, we've got some time to rest."

Sam nodded and rubbed at his temples, trying to ignore the growing headache. He stiffened suddenly as his eyes clouded over.

"Not now," he could hear Dean hiss, a worried undertone as he reached across to grip Sam's hand tight in his.

Sam was barely aware of Dean's hand in his, desperately gripping back on instinct, as his whole body shook. It felt like forever before he finally collapsed into his seat.

"Hey, Sammy? You good?"

Sam's whole body jerked and he took a deep breath, back arching slightly. "Keep driving," he said, hollow. "Don't stop yet, keep driving."

Dean nodded grimly and pressed down the accelerator. "You gotta tell me what happened."

"The hospital figured it out," Sam whispered. "They got the other patient to talk, he told them about getting our stuff and seeing us leave."

Dean cursed. "We're gonna have to change cars. Now."

Sam looked out at the open and empty road, as well as the parking lots they passed with scarce cars. "Where?"

"Motel," Dean reminded. He frowned. "We'll have to find one with lots of cars."

Sam nodded slowly, leaning his forehead against the cool window. "How do you know all this?"

Dean was quiet for a long time. "Before they sent me here... I considered running away. Thought about it a lot."

"Why didn't you?" Sam asked him. "You seem well prepared for it."

He shrugged. "Never felt ready to leave home, I guess."

"I never would've had the courage to do it," Sam said. "My parents would've never let me go."

"Well," He squeezed Sam's hand, which he was still holding. "At least we're out now."

Sam weakly squeezed back, staring at their entwined fingers in some marvel. He’d forgotten how nice it felt to be touched easily, gently. He liked the warmth of it.

After what seemed like forever, Dean finally pulled into a motel. "I'm gonna get us a room," he said. "Stay here and wait, okay?"

Sam nodded, already missing Dean's touch when he pulled away. He slid down in his seat and watched Dean go into the office. Rubbing at his nose, it came back bloody and he stared at his fingers for a moment before quickly rummaging through their bags for some napkins, pressing it to his nostrils. 

He should’ve known, he always got nosebleeds after a vision, sometimes before.

He looked up when Dean came back. "You got a room?" He asked, slightly muffled.

"Yeah, for two days, just in case. Come on." He held a hand out for him which he gratefully took. Coming into the motel room, he grimaced at the bright and sudden light, spotting the lone bed in the middle. “One bed?”

"Figured it was for the best," Dean explained. "Since neither of us sleeps a lot, and when we do, it's all nightmares." He seemed to hesitate. "Do you mind?"

Sam shook his head, spotting the bathroom. "No, it's fine," he said, going in to wash the blood off of his face and hands. He wetted his hair as well, glancing at himself in the mirror with a grimace. Walking back into the main room, he saw that Dean had changed clothes. “Aren’t you going to teach me to drive a car?”

“Some time,” Dean said vaguely, not looking at him.

"You really don't trust me, do you?" Sam asked sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Dean did a double take, sitting cross-legged opposite him. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you said so yourself, you don't trust me behind the wheel cause I might have a vision," Sam pointed out. "But I always have a couple seconds to know it's coming, I can always pull to the side."

"Oh, that," Dean nodded slowly. "We'll think of something."

Sam stared at him and then shrugged, tugging at his hair for a moment. "Alright," he conceded.

"Try getting some sleep," Dean suggested. "We'll be out in the morning."

"I slept a bit in the car." Sam mumbled. "Where are we going to get a different car?"

Dean waved at the window. "Look at the parking lot and take your pick."

Sam chewed on his lower lip and went to the window, staring at the cars. "How do we know which one would really hurt someone to take?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." Sam thought carefully, looking at each one. "How do you know that car-?'' He pointed at the red one. "-doesn't belong to a single mom whose job is to drive people around. Or that one-" the silver car. "-doesn't belong to an elderly couple that struggle with everything? How do you know?"

Dean smiled a little. "We take a look at the inside. Papers in the glovebox, stuff crammed between the seats, whatever's in the trunk."

Sam nodded slowly, moving to sit back on the bed. "So what kind of stuff are we looking for?"

Dean sighed, turning on his side and pulling Sam down. He placed his hand over Sam's eyes. "In the morning, okay?" He mumbled. "I've been driving for hours, I want to at least try to rest."

For a moment, Sam didn't move but then slowly, bit by bit, he relaxed, the hand over his eyes made everything narrow down to just Dean’s soft breathing beside him. "Alright."

Dean hummed, moving his hand down to tangle his fingers with Sam's. "Wake me if you have a vision."

"Trust me, you'll wake up yourself if I do," Sam told him. "Night."

"Night, Sammy."

* * *

Sam stared down at the notes he had made and back at the laptop, trying to make sense of it. He also tried not to let his nervousness show- they were in a bar and Dean was trying his luck at the pool table. He could see from the corner of his eyes when Dean started stumbling back to their table.

Sam barely glanced at him and then back at his notes, before looking up again sharply, immediately seeing the black eye. "What happened?" He asked as he scooped some ice out of his drink- water- into a napkin and pressed it against Dean's eye.

"The last guy was not the idiot he looked like," Dean said morosely. "Caught on that I was hustling."

Sam gave a low sound at that, shifting the ice around. "Sorry," he said. "What about the ones before him?"

"Not as smart as they looked," Dean sniggered.

Sam couldn't help but smile as well, taking the ice back a little to look at his eye. "Well, while you've been doing that, I've been looking up demons."

"Seriously?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Found anything?"

Sam gave a half shrug. "I've found a bunch of stuff, the problem is a lot of them cancel each other out," he said. "And a lot more is the complete opposite of what you've told me."

"Go on." Dean took the ice pack from Sam's hand, pressing to his eye himself.

"Well, going by what you're saying, it all holds up, and that demons are incredibly possessive so that lines up with my vision of it trying to find you," Sam continued. "And supposedly, there's ways to protect yourself."

That made Dean straighten more attentively. "Like what?"

Sam pulled a few pages towards him, showing Dean a five pointed star encased in flames. "Like this- apparently this is an anti-possession tattoo. Demons can't possess you if you have it."

"Okay... What if this is all just... Nonsense on the internet?"

"Then it's nonsense," Sam said with a shrug. "You want to take that chance?"

Dean studied the symbol, jaw moving from side to side. "Let's do it," he said decisively.

"There's a place close by that can make it into a necklace," Sam told him. "Not that expensive either."

"You don't think tats would be safer?"

Sam blinked at that. "You mean tattoos?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded. "Necklaces can be torn, or we could just lose them, the pendant could break."

Sam shifted. "I just… Tattoos are kinda… Permanent."

Dean grinned. "Aww, princess, you scared of needles?"

"Somewhat," Sam allowed sheepishly, rubbing at his arm. "It's also… Considered a sin."

"A... Sin?"

Sam flushed. That was a stupid thing to say instead of the truth; but it was the first thing that popped out, and nodded. "Tattoos, piercings, all bodily modifications are considered sinful."

Dean bit his lips, like he was trying to stop an incredulous laugh from breaking out. "Okay. But, wouldn't your... God... Want you to protect yourself?"

Sam stared down at his papers, playing with his pen. "I don't know," he mumbled. "I don't believe in Him."

"Then what's the problem?"

Sam couldn't bring himself to look at Dean. "It's going to sound crazy."

"Dude," Dean said flatly.

Finally, Sam sighed and looked at the symbol again. "Every time I look at it… I swear I feel some kind of burn."

"A burn?" Dean reached out, placing his hand on Sam's forearm to tilt his body towards himself. "What do you mean? Where?"

"No, it's not like a real physical burn that you can see,” Sam said, shaking his head. He gestured towards his upper torso. "It's in here."

Dean tapped his finger on Sam's chest, then left his palm there, obviously feeling the steady beat. "Do you think you could find some experts on that thing?" He tilted his head at the laptop. "Someone who can tell us what's what?"

"I've been trying but…” He shook his head. "All it says is that these only affect demons." His voice fell to a whisper. "I'm not a demon. Right?"

He was sure that, despite trying not to, he felt Dean shiver slightly at the words, but he didn't move away from Sam. "No, you're not," he said firmly. "You haven't hurt anyone."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, resisting the urge to shift closer. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Then you won't," Dean assured. "And I'll help you, every step."

Sam nodded, giving in and placing his head on Dean's shoulder. "Okay," he whispered.

Dean sighed in relief and patted his head clumsily.

Sam moved enough to look at the symbol again. "So, tattoos."

"If it starts hurting like it shouldn't, we can stop," Dean suggested.

Sam swallowed nervously but nodded, rubbing his chest again. "Where are we going to get it?"

"I'll find a parlor," Dean muttered. "Probably gonna be a little skeezy, but there's always one around."

Sam nodded once more, one hand coming up to grip at Dean's sleeve. "Alright."

* * *

"Doesn't hurt," Dean assured through gritted teeth, as the tattoo artist gave him a skeptical look.

Sam just stared at him. "I'd believe that a lot more if you didn't look like you were about to cry."

"Fuck off!" Dean hissed. "It's not-" He broke off, biting back a groan.

Sam didn't say anything, just watched with a bit of a grimace. "And we're getting it on our arms?"

"Yeah, why not?" Dean asked. "Where else?"

"Just… Wondering." Sam watched the symbol take form. He rubbed at the inside of his arm where Dean was getting it. "And looks like it hurts a lot and your face isn't helping."

Dean schooled his face, but he couldn't unclench his fist and a quick glance showed they were bloodless white.

Sam shook his head, leaning back against a pillar to just watch him, mentally counting down to when it would be his turn.

"Alright, you're up," the tattoo artist said once Dean was done and motioning to Sam as he changed his equipment. 

Sam grimaced and slowly sat down in the chair, looking two seconds away from bolting.

Dean waggled his fingers. "Wanna hold my hand, baby?" He teased.

Sam just threw him an unamused look and settled into the chair, taking a deep breath. "Just… Let's get this over with."

The tattoo artist sighed. "Are you sure, buddy?" He asked. "You don't look too eager."

Sam glanced at Dean again, practically vibrating out of his skin. "... I'm sure."

The moment the tattoo gun touched Sam's skin, he jumped and gripped at Deans hand tightly, gritting his teeth hard enough that he was sure something had cracked. 

Slowly, the design started to take form and it was then, that he tightened his grip on Dean's arm. 

"Anything burning?" Dean asked, whispering the question into Sam's ear.

During the beginning, the only pain was the pain of the tattoo. But now that the artist had finished the five pointed star, it was starting to burn deeper than he was sure that the tattoo was supposed to. "Yes," he barely managed to whisper.

"Want him to stop?"

Sam swallowed hard. "No point," he whispered, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the burn.

Dean snuck a look at the artist, who was completely absorbed in his task, and pressed his forehead to Sam's shoulder. "It's okay," he tried to soothe. "Almost done and at least we'll be protected."

_ 'Will I be protected?' _ Sam couldn't help but wonder. What did it mean that something that was supposed to protect them from demons was burning and hurting him?

"Finished." The artist leaned back, doing a double take at the way Sam and Dean were huddled together. "You alright?"

The mark... It was burning. Sam tried to breathe through the pain. "Y-yeah."

Dean pressed his fingers into Sam's bicep, smiling through his teeth at the artist. "He's terrified of needles," he explained.

The artist raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "Whatever."

The artist backed off and Dean moved to stand in front of Sam, bending down to be at eye-level. "Talk to me, man," he said in a low voice. "What's happening?"

Sam looked up at him with wide eyes. "It's burning,” he whispered. "It hurts."

Dean cursed under his breath. "Wanna get out of here? Maybe it'll fade."

Sam nodded, curling his hand over the tattoo as he gingerly pulled his jacket on.

Dean helped him stand, quickly paying the tattoo artist with one hand. Sam leaned into Dean as they walked out, trying desperately to ignore the burn. It wasn't growing at least, it was just a constant ache, almost in time with his heart rate. "Are we driving more today?"

"If you feel up for it," Dean said.

Sam nodded, pulling his arm closer to him. "I guess… Lets keep going."

* * *

"Okay, you remember how to park, right?" Dean asked, watching Sam's hands on the wheel like a hawk.

Sam gripped the steering wheel tightly, not even daring to blink. "Pull up to the street and don't hit anything?"

"Definitely don't hit anything." Dean patted the dashboard of the car as if he was silently apologizing. "There's an empty spot right there, come on."

Sam lightly pressed on the gas and inched the car forward, managing to park it with a great sigh of relief.

"There ya go, you got it." Dean grinned at him. "How's the hand?"

Sam glanced at the tattoo. "Still burning but… I guess I can ignore it."

"So less than it was yesterday?"

Sam shook his head. "It's constant, doesn't get bigger or smaller, just… There. I kinda just… Try to ignore it."

Dean shoved back his worry again. "Well... Maybe it'll get better?"

Sam didn't say anything, that he didn't think that it was ever going to get better. "Should we go inside?" He asked, gesturing to the bar.

"Yeah, let's." Dean paused, then sighed dreamily. "Man, I can't even remember what alcohol tastes like."

Sam glanced at him. "Are you even 21?"

Dean gave him an affronted look. "Dude! I'm 26. You're the one who looks like an underage overgrown brat."

Sam's forehead furrowed as he tried to think. Dean was 26 so he was..."What year is it?"

"Uh..." Dean tried to think. "2006. Oh, wait." He smacked his forehead. "I'm 27."

Sam didn't speak, realizing just how long he had been at the hospital. "I'm 23."

Dean cocked his head curiously. "How long were you in there?"

Sam fell back against his seat, staring aimlessly ahead. "Five years."

"Fuck," Dean breathed out. "It was... Just two for me. No wonder you're a little..." He trailed off.

Sam turned to look at him. "A little what?" He asked a bit defensively.

"Loopy?" Dean held his hands up in defense. "I mean, so am I, dude. Who wouldn't be, after that place?"

Sam just stared at him and then looked away. "I just… Didn't realize it was for so long," he mumbled. "They never visited me."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Screw them, man. That's all on them."

Sam shook his head. "And the worst part? They always quoted the parts of the Bible that talked about honoring the mother and father, obeying the mother and father, and respecting the mother and father." His voice shook in anger and he gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white. "What about the son?" He felt a sharp pain shoot through his head, the burn intensified on his arm, and suddenly the car jerked forward.

Dean gripped the door handle, startled. "Dude! Feet off the pedal, ignition off!"

Sam stared at the ignition and his feet. "I'm not touching the pedal," he said bankly. "And the ignition is off."

Dean stared. "I- okay. Um..." His voice rose slightly. "Sam, what's going on?"

"I don't know," Sam whispered, shaking his voice breaking. “I don't know, I don't know."

"Fuck, okay, come on!" Dean scrambled out, pushing Sam out the other way.

Sam fell out without grace, scrambling to keep his balance. He wrapped his arms around himself.

Dean appeared in front of him and gripped Sam's biceps, forcing their eyes to meet. "Deep breaths," he instructed.

Sam leaned against him, forehead pressed to his, as he tried to breathe, gripping him tightly. "What's happening to me?" He gasped out.

"I don't know," Dean said in a surprisingly steady voice, holding onto Sam.

Sam barely bit back the tears, gripping onto him tightly. "I don't…” He let out a deep breath. "I'm scared, Dean."

"Me too," Dean admitted after a pause. "That's why we need to keep going, okay? We can't just... Freak out and panic."

It was hard not to do exactly that, but Sam nodded, straightening on shaky legs. "Okay," he whispered.

"Okay, good." Dean sighed. "Come on, let's get drunk. I'm gonna need tequila to deal with this."

Sam nodded "Never had alcohol before."

"Well, it's awesome, you're gonna hate it."

"Then why drink it?"

"To deal," Dean said simply.

Sam considered that and nodded. "Guess… I'm gonna start drinking."

"Attaboy."

Sam couldn't deny the little bit of giddy pleasure that shot through him at the words, sticking to Dean ‘s side as they entered the bar.

Dean led him to the counter and signaled the bartender for two shots.

Sam shook his arm, the tattooed one, and rolled the sleeve up to try and relieve the scratchiness of the cloth. He tried to ignore the inflamed skin around the marking and stared at the shot glass instead.

A stranger suddenly approached them. "You boys know what that tattoo is?" He asked, without preamble.

Sam started and took a step back, letting Dean move in front of him. "Why?"

The hunter eyed them curiously. "Some say it's for protection against demons."

How did he know that? Was he a demon? Did he belong to the group of people on the internet that talked about it? Sam curled in closer behind Dean, chest to back. 

The hunter looked between them. "Name’s Gordon Walker."

"What do you want?" Dean asked brusquely.

"Just to talk," Gordon said simply. "Curious about two kids that come in with that mark."

"What do you know about it?" Dean asked, curious despite himself.

"More than you know, a lot more than most."

Sam caught Dean's eyes and gave a small shrug. "And… What do you want from us?" He asked, hating how his voice shook.

Gordon smiled lazily. "Nothing at all. Just offering you a chance to learn."

"A chance to learn what?".

"Hunting," Gordon said simply.

Sam and Dean shared another look. "You mean… Hunting whatever these marks are for?"

"Demons." Gordon took a sip of his drink. "But I'm guessing you already knew that, cause you've got those tattoos."

Sam flinched back at that, as the mark on his arm throbbed almost angrily. He didn't say anything, looking at Dean.

Dean pursed his lips. "You're offering to teach us?"

"I don't want to see two kids getting overexcited and ending up dead," Gordon corrected. "So yeah, I'm offering to teach you."

Dean drummed his fingers against the bar top. "We need to talk first," he said, gesturing towards himself and Sam.

Gordon nodded. "Take your time, I'm not going anywhere."

Dean dragged Sam away, leaving their drinks abandoned. “Well?"

Sam rubbed the back of his head. For the first time, he found himself wishing for a vision to help him figure out what to do. "I don’t know."

"You're the resident genius," Dean reminded him.

"I am?" Sam asked dubiously. "I mean… He came to us. He knows what this is, and he mentioned hunting, so that means that it's a whole thing and he's probably not the only one."

"Yeah." Dean looked discreetly back at the guy. "Seems legit. I say we give him a shot, see what he knows."

Sam nodded, curling a hand over the tattoo again. "And… We can always leave. It's two against one so… We can get out if we need to."

"Right." Dean nodded, then paused. "Don't suppose you're getting any visions that could be handy right now?"

Sam threw him a look. "I've got a vision of me kicking your ass eventually," he snarked. "I can't control them, they come as they want."

"Feisty," Dean teased. "Come on, let's tell him we agree."

Sam nodded and half glanced at him again. "Just… Seems weird that he'd approach us like this.”

"Good Samaritan?" Dean suggested.

"Is there such a thing?"

"You're the one from Bible Camp," Dean shot back. "Look... We need to know what we're getting into. If he's offering... If it doesn't work, like you said, we'll get out."

Sam glared at him, choosing not to mention that he had actually gone to Bible Camp, multiple times. "Yeah, and he seems to know at least what he's talking about," he said. "Alright."

"Awesome." Dean took a deep breath. "Let's go."


End file.
